


Don't Look

by story_monger



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Spoilers through 8X10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-04 05:25:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/707060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/story_monger/pseuds/story_monger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was almost comforting to feel Alfie’s soul buzzing with thoughts and reactions and quiet, human wonderings. Like having a bird on his shoulder who made the occasional chirruping observation.</p><p>Alfie and Samandriel right before the torture starts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Look

The knife shone in the demon’s hand.

  
 _Shush, Alfie. Don’t look._

  
Samandriel could feel Alfie’s soul lying quiet in his own mind. Like a hare that knows not to draw attention to itself. Perhaps better yet, a fawn instinctively lying in tall grasses, keeping its ears and legs tucked and not moving, not making a sound, pretending it's not even there at all.

  
Alfie, Samandriel knew, was certainly still awake. He’d already shown himself too curious to slip into the semblance of sleep, as vessels’ souls often did. Samandriel had felt him, perched in the upper corners of his consciousness, watching the auction proceedings with quiet gravity. Alfie even wafted a sense of questioning when Samandriel spoke to Dean Winchester. Who, he asked, was Castiel? What had he done? Who was this man, and how was he involved in gods and demons?

  
Samandriel had answered quietly, in small spurts of his own memories, and he’d felt Alfie withdraw just a bit to pore over what he’d been told. It was almost comforting to feel Alfie’s soul buzzing with thoughts and reactions and quiet, human wonderings. Like having a bird on his shoulder who made the occasional chirruping observation.

  
And Samandriel remembered thinking that his Father must be Good, to have created souls like Alfie’s.

  
And now.

  
Now, Alfie’s burbling soul-hum was gone, replaced by a thrumming silence. He still wasn’t asleep, though Samandriel had told him to do so, begged him. He couldn’t bring himself to force Alfie into unconsciousness, not after the boy had agreed to Samandriel with such serenity in his face, like he knew he’d be asked this question and had been ready to say yes for years now. Humans had free will. That was their whole point, wasn’t it?

  
 _I cannot promise protection_ , Samandriel nevertheless had explained in fervent tones as they both waited for the demon’s arrival. _Not after a certain point. You have no reason to suffer, if it comes to that._

  
Alfie’s silence rang between them.

  
 _That would make me a pretty awful friend though, to leave you here alone,_ Alfie had observed with quiet tremors in his voice. _If we’re going to die…_

  
And he’d trailed off. Samandriel had felt such a bloom of pity and frustration and love for this songbird of a soul that thought itself an eagle. He would protect it, he thought suddenly. As long as he could, he’d protect it.

  
 _We are friends, right?_ Alfie had suddenly said, sounding embarrassed. _I think sharing a headspace should mean something, shouldn’t it?_

  
Samandriel hadn’t had the heart to explain that angels didn’t experience the same emotional ties as humans, that “friend” was something he knew of rather than understood. But he thought of his fellow foot soldiers in his garrison, of the way wars and battles had bonded them. And he thought, perhaps, he could adopt Alfie as his final comrade in this final battle.

  
So when the demon arrived and Alfie sank deeper into the tall grasses of his own mind, Samandriel had given his vessel’s soul one soft touch, akin, perhaps, to a light squeeze of the shoulder.

  
 _Yes, Alfie,_ he said. _We are friends._

  
And then.

  
 _Shush, Alfie. Don’t look._


End file.
